


Uncontrollable

by kenshincha



Category: The Eagle | Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-20
Updated: 2012-03-20
Packaged: 2017-11-02 07:09:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenshincha/pseuds/kenshincha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus is the literary agent to Esca, an eccentric writer who works him like a slave. That all changes when Marcus finds stories where he isn't the slave anymore. Based on this <a href="http://the-eagle-kink.livejournal.com/2834.html?thread=4145426#t4145426">prompt</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Uncontrollable

**Author's Note:**

> For the [Eagle Big Bang](http://eagle-bigbang.livejournal.com). This is by far the longest story I have ever written. It was a stressful journey, but I'm pretty proud that I made it! HUGE thanks to my beta marlee813 who listened to me rant about it forever and never told me to shut up. Also a big thanks to Tif for her amazing art! I love it so much! 
> 
> [Art Masterpost](http://ladytiferet.livejournal.com/25343.html)
> 
> Also posted on [Live Journal](http://kenshincha.livejournal.com/12299.html)
> 
> **Warnings:** slavery, D/s, bondage, rough sex, foodplay

  


  


The Wicked Witch of the West ringtone did not properly convey just the amount of Evil it truly represented.

Marcus rolled on his stomach and reached for his phone. He tried not to look at the clock, but when he did catch a glimpse, he allowed himself to groan at the red 4:35AM before answering the call. "Yes, Esca?"

"Coffee."

Marcus blinked, thinking he must have nodded off and only caught the last word. "S’cuse me?"

"Coffee. I want coffee."

Marcus suddenly felt wide awake. The amount of incredulousness his brain was drowning in felt like being shoved off a pier into the frigid winter ocean. " _What?_ "

"I. Fucking. Need. Coffee," he said slowly as if Marcus was being the crazy one calling up his literary agent at some ridiculous hour for a ridiculous request. 

"I know I restocked your coffee bar only nine hours ago, Esca." The Infamous Coffee Bar. "I know you can use the K-Cups."

"I want Starbucks."

Marcus groaned, rolling onto his back. "There aren't any twenty-four hour Starbucks out in the suburbs. It doesn't work like that outside the city."

"Then find one in the city. Bring it to me."

Marcus couldn't believe this. "It's probably an hour's drive to the closest one. Even if I did get it, it'd be cold by the time I got it to you."

"That's what thermoses are for."

"Esca! You can't be serious."

"I'm typing right now. Those K-Cups work like shite. I'm starting to fall the fuck to asleep. I need proper coffee."

"You know those coffee cups are real coffee in smaller amounts. And if you're tired, you should go to bed. It's almost 5 in the morning."

"Oi! You're always fucking complaining that I don't write quick enough. I'm fucking writing now! Morpheus is pulling at my eyelids. I'm about to fucking pass out and bust my head on his keyboard. So if you know what's good for you, you'll fucking get off your arse and get my coffee!" 

Marcus flinched at the loud band of Esca slamming down his receiver. Marcus moved his cell phone away from his ear and lied there. He tried to pretend that he was just going to roll over and go back to sleep, but he already knew he wouldn't. 

He stumbled out of bed.

  


By the time Marcus trudged up the steps to Esca's it was already starting to look like a bright and cheery day. Marcus just grumbled and adjusted his sunglasses.

Marcus felt like a fool. It wasn't until he was driving back that he realized it. Instead of getting his ass up and going into the city, he should have just rolled over and went back to sleep. He could have gotten two more hours, and then gone to the local Starbucks that opened at seven. He probably would have arrived at Esca's sooner too. 

He blamed it on the fact that it had been so early and that he only had four hours sleep. That and Esca had him well trained. He would put up a token protest, but he would always agree in the end.. He needed to get out of this habit.

Marcus opened the front door knowing it would be unlocked. The house always reminded Marcus of a home decor catalog. It was modern, clean and attractive, but it was also so impersonal. It showed no signs that anyone actually lived there. Which wasn't too far off. The only time Esca ever used the ground floor was for large parties, something that thankfully rarely happened.

It was quiet on the ground floor. Once he made his way to the kitchen, he poured the coffee into a large paper cup and took the risk of zapping it in the microwave. Esca would probably throw the java on Marcus if he knew he heated it there. Marcus was banking on Esca being in one of his writing moods where he tuned out everything, crawled into his mind and typed out page after page. 

To be on the safe side, Marcus opened the microwave before it beeped and canceled the one second left. He gritted his teeth against the heat as he took the paper cup out and poured the coffee back into the thermos. 

He sealed it, and while he was waiting for the metal to warm up, Marcus went to the fridge to check on supplies. Esca usually used a fridge he kept upstairs, but sometimes he would come down and tear through this one if he reached a part in a story he was having a lot of trouble with. Luckily it seemed nothing was touched, and he would have everything he needed to cook Esca breakfast. He probably hadn't eaten since the last time Marcus fed him twelve hours ago. No doubt he hadn't slept either. 

Marcus picked up the coffee and headed upstairs. It was as pristine as the lower floor, save for the office and bedroom. Those showed the real way of life for award-winning, bestselling author Esca MacCunoval: a disorganized mess only kept from gathering dust and dirt by Marcus’ intervention.

The bedroom door was mostly closed, but there was a low snoring from within. Marcus scowled and ignored it, moving past it to the office.

Thick drapery covered the windows, blocking out the morning sun and leaving the office gloomy and dark. Esca’s face was illuminated by the eerie pure white light of his laptop in front of him. He looked thin and pale. Granted, he always looked thin and pale, but now he was more akin to a vampire than a human. The lower half of his thick black-rimmed glasses reflected his laptop and showed faint lines of writing. Esca was too involved in his typing to notice Marcus. The sound of key strokes at a mile-a-minute was almost deafening in the quiet room. 

Marcus shivered as he walked forward. He never knew how the cold didn't distract Esca from his writing, but he wasn't about to face the consequences of touching the thermostat. He managed to navigate all the piles Esca kept on the floor that were hidden in the dark and set the thermos of coffee down within Esca's reach. He turned the dimmer up on the table lamp on the desk. The orange light through the lamp shade made Esca look far more human.

Esca continued to type with one hand as the other picked up the coffee. Esca didn't seem to have any comment about it, which Marcus counted as lucky. Esca never gave praise, only berated, so he took the silence as a positive.

"Want breakfast?" Marcus asked. 

It took a long moment for Esca to respond, and when he did, it was in a clipped tone. "No."

"You should eat."

"No."

Marcus sighed and left the office, only tripping over something once. By the time he made his way to the hallway the man who had been snoring before was standing in the door in a pair of boxer shorts. He leaned against the frame with a smirk, his chest puffed out like a gorilla trying to intimidate.

He was Richard Geste. Marcus disliked him, and not just because he was sleeping with Esca. He was a large man, even taller and thicker than Marcus. His face was hard with sharp lines. He wore shirts that were too tight and pants that were too big. He only talked about sex and beer. Marcus had no idea what he did for a living. He was only the latest in a long string of Esca’s boyfriends that were douchebags. It wasn’t a word Marcus would normally use, but the only right word he could think of. Sorry Mom.

“I’ll make sure he… gets to bed.” Geste’s smile is more mocking than reassuring.

It took all of Marcus’ control to keep his face blank as he began down the stairs.

“I wouldn’t mind breakfast,” Geste called out.

“Food’s in the fridge,” Marcus snapped back before he went out the front door. He was going back to sleep.

  


It was the coffee bar that had really started it all. Or ended it, depending on one’s perspective.

Marcus had been a small time literary agent for Golden Eagle Publishing. He was only one of many agents who specialized in the trends of a single genre and read through tons of manuscripts to find the ones worth publishing. 

One look at Marcus, tall, large and fit, and many would assume he read action-adventure novels, WWII nonfiction or vampire sex books. However, his specialty had been romances.

Marcus was a marshmallow on the inside. He loved romance books. He loved the happy end endings, the emotions, and the love. He didn’t go around all day dreaming about a soul mate, but he liked the idea of finding someone to love, someone with whom he could connect. Even though he loved all the corny lines and the cliché plot lines, he was a fickle reader. He didn’t let just any clichéd manuscript by him (he’d be out of a job). The only way he could get through half of the submissions was to exercise at the same time. He made a point of reading all of them the whole way through. Even if they were bad, someone put a lot of effort into them and they shouldn’t be just tossed away.

Most of the authors he accepted only do one book, but a few go on to write more, which of course was better for Marcus. Seven of the people Marcus managed were actually doing fairly well and continue to write. Overall, he was a small-time agent. Most of the big authors were taken by the senior agents who represented only a choice few.

Off all the romances Marcus had read, Esca MacCunoval's books had been his favorite.

Esca started out with the _Cartwright_ series of regency adventure-romance novels (heavy on the adventure). When that gained him some recognition, he eventually moved over to Golden Eagle for a better contract. Through Golden Eagle, he started the _Pennicoat_ novels, a Victorian-era series of adventure-romance novels (heavy on the romance).

The books were frank and sarcastic. When taken at face value, the main love interests were always just annoyed with each other. It was so real, with messy love and no perfect endings. Marcus had never been as affected by stories as he had by Esca’s. Even as a literary agent who went through books like tissues.

Marcus thought it was a dream coming true when he was asked if he would be interested in exchanging half of his contracts to work for Esca MacCunoval. He had no idea why they were giving such a large and growing name to him, but he wasn’t about to question it. He certainly learned why soon after anyway.

Esca was uncontrollable. How the man functioned before having agents to terrorize, Marcus really didn’t know. He drove all of his other representatives to quit. He was demanding and rude. He never gave thanks unless it was sarcastic. Marcus was turning into a housekeeper. He did his laundry, his cooking. He had to make sure he went to bed. Any attempt to talk to Esca about his books was mostly met with hostility. Marcus had to learn Esca’s moods pretty quickly. 

It was certainly disheartening. Marcus didn’t understand how this menace could be the same one who wrote such moving prose.

It was the coffee bar that sealed Marcus’ fate. Under Esca’s tyranny, Marcus was starting to neglect his other contracts. The fact never sat well with Marcus and he tried to partition his time as much as he could. Esca seemed to have none of that. When he decided he wanted a coffee bar, Marcus, who had never in his life been contracted to have work done on his home, was put in charge. Marcus had to spend over a week talking Esca out of actually hiring a full-time barista, especially when he only wanted regular coffee and didn’t need someone who knew how to make espresso and half-caf caramel macchiato. 

Constant phone calls to the designers. Constant phone calls to the site manager. Constant phone calls from Esca saying it was all wrong or he wanted it different. He wanted to change the tiles, then the wood, then the cabinets, then the tile again. He wanted different lights. He wanted one sink. No, he wanted two. He wanted room for three coffee makers, no make that four. He wanted a mini fridge; no he wanted a full one. He wanted something that would dispense milk without him needing to open the carton and just pour it. He changed the color scheme over five times. The designer and site manager were ready to murder Esca in his sleep.

It certainly wasn’t under his job description, but the publishing company’s answer to all his questions was ‘Whatever Esca wants, he gets. Paint the grass purple if he asks for it.’ And thank God he hadn’t thought of anything like that. Esca meant a lot of money for them; what was one man’s misery over millions of dollars?

Marcus barely left Esca’s house, and hadn’t answered e-mails in days. He felt fucking awful about ignoring his other authors and ended up requesting they be represented by someone else. The publishers thought that would be a splendid idea, why hadn’t they thought of that sooner?

Esca didn’t seem to care much about the coffee bar anymore after that, although he thankfully seemed to use it all the time once it was done. Except for that night when he woke Marcus up to go buy Starbucks. He was really hoping that didn’t become a habit of his. At least Marcus would now know to just wait for a local store to open.

In the end, all Marcus had to be really thankful for, after that first book was published, was the amazing pay check. And the thought made him kind of sick. He became a literary agent to read books and help writers on their way to their dream jobs, not to make a lot of money. 

Although that wasn’t true. There was one thing Marcus could always look forward to.

  


It was actually a decent hour when Marcus arrived at Esca’s. He was thankful that for the last few weeks he hadn’t gotten any late night/early morning calls; he could show up at 9:00 now, rather than some ungodly hour. 

Marcus' steps faltered when he walked into the kitchen to find Esca slumped in one of the breakfast barstools. Marcus’ eyes darted around, looking for any signs that Esca and Geste had gone on another binge-eating episode. Thankful to see the kitchen as clean and absent of garbage as he had left it, he turned his eyes to Esca. 

Esca wore sunglasses that took up almost half of his face. The other half was taken up by a smile.

It was done then. "Finished it?" Marcus asked.

Esca hummed a positive.

Marcus’ shoulders slumped in relief. “That’s good. Great. What’s it called?”

“ _The Purloined Susan._ ” Esca said with a flourish of his hand.

“A kidnapping, then?”

Esca’s grin became sly. “Something like that,” he said cryptically.

“I look forward to reading it.”

Esca hummed pleasantly again.

Many always asked Marcus why he stayed Esca’s literary agent when he was such a terror. His temperament was well known in higher circles, the main reason his first publishing company was willing to let Esca go. Esca was really only like that when he was working on a story. It was as if all the pressure of getting the story done pushed him down emotionally until he was a bundle of anxiety and frustration.

It was moments like this, when Esca just finished a story that all of those negative emotions that had been wearing him down were lifted, and he was able to relax. Marcus thought he saw the real him then. No, that wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t like the anxious side of Esca wasn’t him. Instead, it was like Marcus was being allowed to see a secret part of Esca rarely shown to anyone. 

It was moments like this when Marcus could see the man that could create those wonderful books. This was what kept Marcus around.

“What do you say we go to Paul’s Diner?” Esca asked. 

“Oh, sure.” Marcus was surprised Esca didn’t want home-cooked food, but he was always more easy going after he finished a novel. Perhaps he was high on endorphins his accomplishment.

  


Esca almost reminded Marcus of a cat. He looked so mellow slumped down in the sun in the booth. Marcus wouldn’t be surprised if he started purring. The remains of their brunch were left on the table, a club sandwich for Marcus and waffles for Esca.

“Have any solid ideas for your next book?” Marcus asked, knowing Esca’s mood would be agreeable enough to talk about it. If he didn’t get any information on this book now while the opportunity presented itself, he probably never would.

“A mystery,” Esca said. “A strange mystery, like one done by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.”

Esca hadn’t touched murder mysteries in any of his books. Marcus was a little surprised he was doing so now. “Speckled bands and shaving orangutans?”

Esca smirked. “No murder. More along the lines of The Red-Headed League. And that second one was Poe, not Doyle.”

“Oh.” Marcus didn’t know Poe wrote mysteries. He didn’t actually know too much about books outside of romances, and since Sherlock and John weren’t together, he hadn’t read many of them. 

“You really do only read romances, don’t you?”

“I don’t. As a literary agent, I need to know what the whole market looks like, not just for romances.” Although, he had been neglecting the other genres lately. Esca never wanted his opinion on anything anyway, and since he hadn’t written a bad book yet, the publishers were fine with not getting updates beyond the word count.

Esca shook his head to himself. “You look like you could easily win a street fight, but you’re as docile as a puppy.” He sounded strangely regrettable.

Marcus shrugged and dragged a fry through a dab of mayonnaise, just wanting something to do with his hands. 

Esca gave an exasperated sigh, as if just losing a long argument.

  


Marcus’ home was a modest size townhouse thankfully only thirty minutes away from Esca’s house. There was a main floor with a kitchen and living room, a half-finished basement and a second floor with two bedrooms. It wasn’t new enough to be modern, but it wasn’t old enough have a vintage feeling. He could probably get a better place with the money he’s earned over the past two years working with Esca, but he was just waiting for Esca to decide to buy a cabin in the woods of Maine and drag Marcus there with him. He would almost expect him to do it out of spite, if Esca knew anything about Marcus at all.

Marcus collapsed onto his couch. He took the USB drive out of his pocket and stared at the lump of blue rubber. Should he start reading now, or later? Marcus was really looking forward to reading it, but he was finally allowing himself to crash after dealing with Esca for so long so Marcus doubted he would be able to appreciate it in the state he was in.

Marcus decided just to make sure it all was there and make a back-up copy. He’d sleep in a little tomorrow and then read it. He was sure the editors wanted it right away. Esca was ahead of schedule, but the editors were always pushy like that. 

Marcus turned on his computer and started to skim through the files as they copied onto his computer and his external hard drive. Each file was a chapter of Esca's new book. A total of 25 chapters. This book would be on the short end for him.

As soon as he made it to the bottom of the folder he frowned. The very last file was different. 

'centurion hound - FFed.docx'

Marcus blinked at it. That was strange. Esca never gave Marcus notes on his next stories, and he certainly said nothing about hounds. He had no idea what 'FFed' meant. A centurion was a Roman soldier, right? Maybe he was researching ancient Rome for his next series, but Marcus would have known about that since Esca would’ve sent him out to buy a hundred books on all aspects of Rome. Maybe centurion hound was a breed of canine. Was Esca thinking of getting a dog? Jesus, that was the last thing Marcus needed right now, to take care of some dog too. Esca could barely take care of himself, let alone another living thing. Marcus wouldn't trust him with a plant. 

Marcus highlighted file to look at a preview. He started to glance through, planning on asking Esca about it later, but as his eyes darted down the lines, he did a double take. His name was in this file. 

‘Marcus reached down and gripped the back of Esca's hair.'

Marcus' eyes bugged out. _What?_

He pressed enter, and the file opened. 

  


_Marcus reached down and gripped the back of Esca's hair. He yanked it to tilt Esca’s head back. Esca’s eyes were stuck on his Master’s large cock, jutting out from the folds of his toga._

_Esca whimpered, both in pain and being pulled back from the organ he wanted to taste so much._

_“You are too eager,” Marcus admonished. “You have no self-control.” He slowly leaned his hips forward; his cock grew nearer to Esca’s waiting mouth. He whined and tried to push forward to close his lips over the mushroom head. Marcus allowed him to lean forward just enough so that Esca felt it brush against his lips before he pulled him back._

_“Please, Master,” Esca whined. He wanted to suck Marcus’ cock. He wanted to so bad it was almost painful._

_“Needy little slave,” Marcus scolded, but leaned forward again to let Esca’s lips just close over the very tip. Just as he was about to lick at the slit, Marcus pulled out of reach once more._

_“Master, please, more,” Esca begged, shifting in place._

_Marcus continued to tease Esca with a small brush before pulling back. It nearly drove the slave crazy with want, wanting to please his Master and make him come._

_To Esca’s relief and added frustration, Marcus allowed Esca a little more with each roll forward of his hips. As soon as he let the head go past Esca’s lips, he suddenly shoved forward until it nudged at the back of Esca’s throat._

_Esca angled his head and relaxed his throat easily, letting his master push his cock deeper and harder with each thrust._

  


Marcus looked away and put his hand over his eyes. Jesus. 'FFed' meant face-fucked. Marcus shouldn’t keep reading. He really shouldn’t. It wasn’t like he had never read an explicit scene, but this wasn’t just any explicit scene. It was a scene of him and Esca. Him… _doing_ that to Esca.

Marcus stood and closed his laptop with a bang. That was enough.

  


But it wasn’t. Marcus went back and read the whole story. It had been weird as hell, but also strangely arousing. Marcus had never really thought about that kind of sex before. He’d read some romance stories that had those, what was it called, dominant/submissive elements like that, but he had never been aroused by it. Apparently Marcus was affected by Esca’s writing in any form.

Did Esca do this on purpose? Was he mocking Marcus? Was he tormenting him? What was the point of putting it on the thumb drive? Esca had been his happier self when he gave it to Marcus. Was his wicked streak still there?

Those questions kept haunting him all through the night and he didn’t get to sleep until late.

  


“Marcus! I haven’t seen you in forever!” Cottia squealed and reached up to wrap her arms around Marcus’ broad shoulders. “How are you? Come on, come on. Let’s get a table.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him into the restaurant where they agreed to meet.

Marcus smiled. He had wondered if he should cancel this late lunch given what his mind had been preoccupied with all night, but he was glad he didn’t. He felt better already. Cottia, with her waves of bright red hair and bubbly personality, erased all of the images of masters and their begging slaves.

Cottia had been Marcus’ co-worker and a fellow romance literary agent. They used to bond over the manuscripts that were so bad and cliché they were almost unreal. If Marcus had ever been straight, he was sure Cottia and he would have become more. Instead, they were just two romance junkies who liked to compare cover art hunks and rate their hunkiness.

“Tell me how it’s going!” Cottia said when they both sat down at a table.

“Pretty good.” There was no way Marcus was telling anyone about those stories, let alone Cottia. She would make him file for sexual harassment immediately. Now that he thought of it, should he?

“Esca still kind of a crazy diva?” Ever frank, Cottia was.

Marcus laughed. “Definitely.” She had no idea. “The only reason I had time to have lunch was because Esca finished his latest book, so he’s taking some down time.”

“Ooo, the dragon rests, and the trapped knight sneaks out for an illicit rendezvous with a fair maiden?”

Marcus grinned. “No, he’s just going to talk with some wench he used to know.”

Cottia made an indignant noise and swatted his arm. “That’s terrible! I’m not a wench! Can I at least secretly be a pretty princess who will be rescued from the drunken peasants by a charming prince?”

“Maybe,” Marcus said thoughtfully, looking down at the menu even though he already knew what he wanted.

“I need something better than a maybe. If you don’t come up with something good, you’re going to change from a knight to an ogre real quick.”

“You’re secretly a powerful sorceress,” Marcus said in a stage whisper.

“Ah, that’s what I’m talking about.”

“But you’re not very good at magic.”

“Do I at least get a man?”

“Uh, just a hunched-back assistant. Sorry.”

“I guess I can live with that. I’m sure he has a pure heart.” 

They were both quiet for a moment before they both started laughing.

“Okay,” Cottia said after regaining her breath. “Fairy tales aside, really, how are you? Are you thinking about quitting?”

Marcus gave a tight smile. “No, I’m not. He… takes some getting used to, but he isn’t too bad.”

Cottia looked skeptical.

“He’s eccentric and a little harsh, but a man who writes those stories can’t be all that horrible.”

“I guess that’s true. Oh, Marcus.” Cottia reaches out and puts her on his arm. “Your heart is just too kind for your own good. I half suspect that’s why they picked you. You would do everything that crazy man asks for.”

Marcus thought briefly of his nighttime ride to get coffee. “I _am_ the person that’s lasted longest. Over two books, three including this latest one.”

“And that paycheck must be nice.” Cottia propped her head up with her arm. “Too bad he sounds like I guy I wouldn’t be able to stand.”

Marcus hid a smile. He couldn’t even imagine the storm that would be caused by those two forces colliding. “Yeah, I don’t think he’d really like you either.”

“His loss,” she pronounced as the waitress approached their table.

  


By the time Marcus got to Esca’s to do his daily check on him, the sun was setting. He was a lot calmer now. He was thankful for that long chat with Cottia. Who knows what kind of anxious mess he’d be if he hadn’t had her to distract him from finding that story.

It would all be cleared up soon. With that thought in mind, he climbed the stairs and went to the most likely place Esca would be.

Esca was glaring at his laptop in his office. The lights were on, but he seemed to be in a dark mood. Marcus was taken aback. It usually took longer than a few days for Esca to revert back to his darker self.

“Are you okay?” Marcus asked.

“What?” Esca snapped, looking up. “Oh. Yes. Fuck. I just… I lost something.”

“Lost what?”

“Nothing! Just. Something. A file. It’s gone. Fucking computers.”

Marcus opened his mouth to offer to help him find it, but with a flash of insight, he suddenly had a very good idea as to what Esca had lost. So it hadn’t been on purpose; it had been an accident.

“Do you need anything?” Marcus asked. “Do you want something to eat?”

“No.”

Marcus nodded and slipped away before Esca decided to take out his anger on Marcus in the form of some tedious and horribly long task.

Marcus spent the ride home thinking about that story, though. So Esca hadn’t done it to antagonize Marcus. Something like that wasn’t what Esca normally did anyway. He obviously couldn’t publish it, not as it was now. Not only was it too short, but he wouldn’t just submit a story like that to the publisher with his and Marcus’ names in it, right? So if it wasn’t business, it was… pleasure? 

A thought suddenly struck him. How many of these stories had Esca written? Was this the first or had Esca written others?

By the time he got back home, Marcus’ curiosity won out on him. Marcus wasn’t going to search through Esca’s computer, but if he posted them online? A Google search and a little tweaking of the search criteria suddenly brought him to a blog that Marcus was sure was Esca’s. 

_The Centurion’s Hound._ It wasn’t just a story or two. It was a whole _series_. There were almost thirty-five short stories, and if the info bar on the side was to be believed, they were all centered on Esca, a slave to a young, retired Roman soldier, Marcus. The descriptions were just too close to be coincidence: Esca the small, blonde slave, and Marcus the towering brunette. 

Marcus debated for a long while if he should read the rest of the stories. He didn’t, but he bookmarked the page anyway.

  


This time it was a bit more reasonable time, but 5:55 in the morning was still too damn early. “Hello?” Marcus answered the phone.

“I need you to get over here.”

Marcus rubbed his eye with the base of his palm. “Why?”

“I need a dead body to pose.”

Marcus knew he was tired as hell when he was hoping Esca meant he was going to kill him when he got there. “I thought you said this wasn’t going to be a murder mystery.”

“I changed my mind!”

“Can’t it wait?” he asked, more of a token protest than anything else since he was already sitting up.

“Of course not,” Esca snapped, and the line when dead.

Surprisingly, Esca wasn’t in his office when Marcus arrived. He was down in the living room, the morning sun coming in through the large windows, highlighting Esca’s hair in bright orange hues.

“Here,” Esca ordered, and Marcus obediently went to stand on the spot behind the sofa that Esca indicated. Esca’s eyes darted around, taking in the scene before him. He looked from the windows, to the coach, to the top of Marcus’ head, to the placement of his feet, to the end tables, to the lamps, to the pillows on the couch.

Esca moved to stand before Marcus. He looked up and down Marcus’ body, and Marcus tried very hard not to squirm.

“Right,” Esca said. “Now, when you land, don’t move anything.”

“What?” was all Marcus managed to get out before Esca suddenly put both of his hands in the middle of Marcus’ chest and _pushed_ hard and fast with more strength than the lithe body would imply it had.

Marcus flailed out as he felt himself tumble backwards. His hands searched for purchase on the sofa, and he felt his leg kick Esca somewhere. When his back landed on the couch cushion, his weight and the force of the push caused him to slide down and land with a large _thump!_ on the hardwood floor.

When Marcus finally stopped, he was lying on the thin rug that covered a hardwood floor. His arms were spread out and his legs were splayed up on the coach. There was a low throbbing in the bottom of his skull and his neck ached sharply. “Ow.”

“Don’t move!” Esca yelled as he hurriedly came around the couch, one hand holding a digital camera and the other rubbing against his hip. “Perfect! That works perfect. Better even.” 

Marcus was going to ask if that kick hurt him, but then he remembered Esca just shoved him over a sofa. He decided Esca could limp for a week.

  


"UP!"

Marcus startled awake, and his hands flailed out. He only just managed to grip the back of the couch before he toppled onto the ground. 

He looked up blearily at Esca, who looked down at him in disproval, as if he were a slacker falling asleep on the job. Like he hadn’t driven here at five in the morning just so Esca could throw him over this couch.

"Lazy ass," Esca muttered, as he turned and walked away. 

Marcus gritted his teeth and stood up. An angry remark was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t force himself to speak it. He couldn’t have snapped back even if he really wanted. 

"Did you want something?" Marcus asked instead.

"Breakfast."

Marcus rolled his shoulders and tilted his head from side to side, trying to loosen the stiff muscles in his neck caused from that landing. At least the throbbing in his head was almost gone.

By the time Marcus walked into the kitchen, Esca was sitting at a stool next to the island, drumming his fingers. Marcus bit his cheek. Up in his office, he always looked undead, but sitting there with the natural light on him, he was pretty… It wasn’t a word he normally used for a man, but it was really the only word he could think of. There was a reason he only read romance books and didn’t write them.

“Preferences?” Marcus asked as he went to the fridge. He could feel Esca’s eyes on his back like a heavy weight. When he opened the fridge door, he realized why. “Esca,” Marcus groaned and leaned his head on the side of the door. “I filled it three days ago. You can’t just take food, not tell me and expect me to cook for you.”

“I was hungry,” Esca said. His mouth changed into a strange smirk, as if he just thought up a private joke. Given Geste had been there all weekend, Marcus really didn’t want to think about it.

Marcus sighed. “I’ll need to go to the grocery store.”

“Do it tomorrow. Just go get me crab cakes.”

“Crab cakes for breakfast. Right.”

  


_Esca knelt on the floor, his eyes downcast to look at the leather sandals on his Master’s feet. He could feel Marcus’ eyes on the top of his head._

_“What made you think you should steal food, little one?”_

_“I was hungry, Master.” Esca was meek._

_“And you did not think I would feed you if you asked for it?” Marcus snapped. “You cannot merely take food and not tell me.”_

_Esca bit his lower lip. He could not stop himself. The honey cake had been so shiny with sweet sugar; he did not think Marcus would give him one. Such things were not for slaves. He should have known Marcus would see the sticky honey on his fingertips. He had not even the chance to taste it._

_Marcus knelt down to sit on his heels. In his hand was the small cloth that Esca had hidden his prize. Esca watched as he undid the bundle and revealed the honey cake. “It is a little squashed but sure to taste just as delicious.”_

_Esca’s eyes followed the cake as Marcus brought it to his mouth and took a generous bite, almost half. When the dessert was pulled back, Marcus’ lips were smudged with honey. When Marcus licked at the sugar around his mouth, Esca licked his own lips unconsciously._

_“Do you want a piece?” Marcus asked holding the cake up towards Esca. Esca immediately leaned forward to bite it, but Marcus quickly pulled it back and made a disapproving noise in his throat. “I hope you were not thinking of trying to steal it again.”_

_Esca shook his head jerkily. The smell of the honey and the still warm bread filled his nose and made his mouth water._

_“Do you want a piece?” Marcus asked again._

_“Yes, Master,” Esca moaned._

_Marcus chuckled. “Open your mouth, little one.”_

_Esca’s jaw immediately lowered. He felt his tongue curl as if the cake was already in his mouth._

_Marcus pinched a small piece off and dropped it in Esca’s mouth. Esca savored the little morsel. The soaked bread almost seemed to melt onto his tongue. He gave a small noise of pleasure. The honey was better than he even thought it would be. Esca had not even realized he closed his eyes until he opened them again._

_Marcus grinned widely. “See? I give you what you want. I will always do so if you ask, but only if you are a good slave, understand?”_

_Esca nodded, his eyes staring once again at the honey cake that was left. “May I have more, Master?”_

_“Will you be good and not steal again?”_

_“Yes, Master,” Esca readily agreed. He would always be good if it meant Marcus would dote on him._

_Marcus smiled approvingly and picked up the last of the cake. He placed it in Esca’s waiting mouth and allowed his hand to stay. When Esca was done with the dessert he began to lick off the honey left on Marcus’ fingers until they were no longer sticky and tasting of sugar._

  


The next day while grocery shopping, Marcus was unable to get Esca’s latest installment out of his head. He’d gone back to the blog to see when the first story was posted, which turned out to be only days after Marcus started working for Esca. He hadn’t meant to read any of them, but when he saw a new story had been posted, one that wasn’t the story on the USB, his curiosity won out.

Esca clearly got inspiration from everyday life. Marcus even recognized some of the lines and things they had said. He received a surprisingly large amount of comments. Some were just variations of _‘Hot!’_ Others had some substance to their praise. There was one comment complaining about historical inaccuracy, but everyone else loved it.

Marcus had half a mind to make a blog account and comment on how Esca should be ashamed for writing something like that. But he knew a comment like that would probably only fuel Esca’s fire. He lived for praise and negative reviews only seemed to humor him on a greater level than one would expect.

By the time Marcus’ Jeep was full of groceries and he made it to Esca’s, there was a blue Miata in his usual spot. Marcus slumped. 

Marcus grabbed a few bags of food and entered the house. There was the sound of a football game coming from the living room. Maybe if he was quiet enough, he could stuff the food into the fridge and leave before they realized he was there. He carefully walked to the kitchen.

“Ah, Marcus,” a rough, tight voice called out. 

Marcus sighed. He never was very good at stealth. He put the groceries on the counter before heading to the living room. 

Geste was taking up most of the large sofa and looking at Esca with a strange, angry expression. Esca was sitting next to him on the sofa, pressed into one side of the couch and managing not to touch any of Geste’s sprawling limbs. Esca looked about as bored with him as Marcus would be. He didn’t know why he dated him, or honestly where he found him. Most of the boyfriends appeared out of nowhere.

Geste looked to Marcus. “Go get us some food, huh? It’s like you’re trying to starve Esca. It’s obvious why he’s so thin; you never give him any food.”

Because Marcus didn’t try to constantly feed Esca so he wouldn’t faint from low blood sugar. Marcus looked over to Esca, who suddenly looked a lot more amused. “I just got back from the grocery store. I’m unloading them now.”

“Oh! Good,” Geste said, and turned back to the TV, which was apparently just sports highlights and not a game. Marcus didn’t even bother feeling angry that he didn’t offer to help.

Marcus reflected on his feelings as he walked back to his Jeep. He didn’t want to call it jealousy. Jealousy was the fear of losing what he had. No, it was much worse. It was envy, the want of something that wasn’t his.

Marcus blamed it on the books. If Marcus didn’t know Esca could write books like that, he wouldn’t care who he slept with.

By the time Marcus returned, Esca and Geste had already begun to argue loudly.

Marcus tuned it out as he started to put the food away. By the time he was done, he thought about just sneaking out while the two of them were still arguing, but it was easier just to tell him, than wait for Esca to need him, then be pissed that he was gone.

“I don’t mind being a fuck, but I draw the line at being used!” Geste shouted.

Marcus wasn’t sure if he knew there was a difference. He quickly popped his head in before Esca could reply. “I stocked the fridge, so I’m going home.” When Esca looked up, almost disappointed, Marcus hastily added, “If you don’t need me.”

Esca sighed. “Fine, go.”

“I should tie you to a wall,” Geste growled at Esca.

Esca smirked. “Try it,” he challenged. His eyes suddenly slid back to look at Marcus. The look Esca gave him almost seemed as if it were meant to communicate something to him. Marcus just blinked in ignorance, and Esca’s smirk dwindled.

“Fucking brat.”

“What do you want me to do? Grovel at your feet?!” Esca asked. If Marcus hadn’t seen those stories, he sure as hell wouldn’t be able to imagine it. Now? More than vivid detail. Marcus swallowed, deciding he should leave sooner rather than later.

  


_Esca’s body was stiff from being held in the same position for so long._

_Marcus had summoned him to his chambers that morning. Instead of being told to prepare a bath or bring him breakfast, Marcus took hold of him. His hands were tied together with a strong strip of cloth, another covering his eyes. His bound hands were lifted until the cloth was on a high hook._

_With a promise to return that evening in his ear and a large hand caressing his back side, Marcus left him there._

_He could only stand with his feet flat if he arched his back, and could only relax his back by standing on the balls of his feet. He shifted from one position to the other, back and forth. It was almost maddening, and he panted with his frustration._

_His mind began to wander._

_Panic and fear filled Esca at first, making him shake from the rush of adrenaline. How long would he be there? What if his Master forgot about him and he starved to death? These thoughts filled his head and became more and more fantastical. What if there was a fire in the house? What if Rome was suddenly under siege and he was taken as a spoil of war? What if Jupiter saw him like this and stole him away?_

_No, his Master would not allow any of that. The thought calmed him, knowing he could trust his Master, that he would not be abandoned. He would return as promised._

_Now that his mind had gone to Marcus, his thoughts took a decidedly different direction. When his Master did return, what would he do? Surely he put Esca here for a reason. He bit his lower lip with the idea._

_His master would return but leave him here, tied to the wall. He would press his large chest against Esca’s back. His large, hardened cock would rut against Esca’s back side through his tunic and braccae until Marcus could stand it no longer. He would rip away his clothing and push in—_

_No, his Master had more control than that. He would tease Esca first. Marcus’ large hands would wander over Esca’s lean body, first over his tunic, then underneath it. The calluses of his fingers would rub on his nipples, making them harden until they hurt. He could rub against Esca’s own arousal until he was mewing and rutting against his hand._

_Then his Master would take his hand away, a humored comment about Esca’s eagerness. He would undo Esca’s braccae, letting them drop to his aching ankles. His Master would move away, and Esca would shiver in the cool air without Marcus’ body heat to warm him._

_When he came back, he would have a pot of oil. His fingers would be coated with it. It would be cold to the touch when he slipped two between Esca’s cheeks until he was slippery. The first finger always burned, too blunt to be gradual. Esca’s hips would move along with the finger, in and out. The second finger would make Esca whimper, the stretch almost too much. His Master’s fingers would move and begin to curl, finding that strange spot in him that made him blind with pleasure. When it was touched, Esca would moan and push back, his hands trying to find purchase on the wall, on the hook, on his bindings. The third finger was the easiest with the spot inside him making him relax and accept the larger girth._

_Then they would be gone, and Esca’s pulse would race knowing what was to come. His Master’s large hands would hold onto his hips, pulling him out so that he would be presenting himself. Esca would need to strain and stand on his toes, but he would do it for what was to come._

_The head of Marcus’ cock would poke against his body, ready to breach—_

_The distant sound of his master’s laugh suddenly cut through Esca’s fantasies. He could not see well, but he could tell by the lack of light through the blindfold that it was already night. He had been there for hours, the time eaten away as he fantasized about his Master. A jolt of anticipation shot through when he heard Marcus’ distinct gait approach._

_“Ah, there you are, little one.”_

  


Esca had to know Marcus knew about these. That look he sent him before was crystal clear now. He was thinking about this when he looked to Marcus. It wasn’t Geste (who had actually made the remark) who he was writing about. It was Marcus. It was somehow a relief, but also confusing. Marcus hadn’t been the one to threaten to tie Esca down, but he was the one to do it in his stories.

Marcus closed the browser. These stories were starting to mess with his head. He had never actually thought of Esca in a sexual way until now. Or at least nowhere near as explicitly. Now, all he could think of was Esca submitting to him, wanting to please him with his body and his actions.

It was an appealing idea to not being bossed around or made to wake up at five in the morning to get coffee. To tell Esca what to do and have him actually do it. Marcus turned towards his computer screen and reopened the story.

Marcus didn’t even realize he was rubbing himself through his jeans as he read through it again. The thought of Esca waiting there for him, yearning for his touch, begging him for it. Esca’s skin under his hands as he stripped him…

Marcus’ hand suddenly flew off his crotch. He could not believe he was about to… at the thought of… He shook his head and stood up to take a very cold shower.

  


Three in the afternoon was thankfully a more reasonable time to be called.

"You're not going to push me over a couch again, are you?"

"Just be happy I didn't try to go for complete realism and stick an axe in your sternum."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Come here wearing soft-soled shoes, slacks and a dinner jacket."

"Why? Are we going somewhere?"

"You wouldn't happen to have a top hat would you?"

"What? No."

"A bowler?"

"No! The only hats I own are beanies and baseball caps."

"Figures," Esca muttered. "Fine. But wear the clothing and come over."

"Where are we--" he started but was interrupted by the dial tone. 

Having no idea what Esca was planning, he wore some of his better clothing. He knew Esca hated those sort of affairs, one of the only positive things about him in one of these moods; the Eagle's PR would need to employ miracles workers if Esca ever left the house.

Esca was in the kitchen and looking grumpy by the time Marcus got there, a large frown under his large sunglasses. Marcus glanced down to see him wearing a strange bright red sweater, torn skinny jeans and untied boots. Clearly not formal wear.

"What's going on?"

Esca turned and headed towards the backyard. "I want to see if you can climb a tree." 

" _What?_ "

Esca lead him over to one side of the house and to a large tree that stood close to it. Marcus didn't know anything about trees so he couldn't name it. All he knew was it was tall with thick lined bark and branches with thin, fat leaves.

They stopped bellow it, looking up into the branches. "I need see if you can climb this tree."

"Why?" Marcus did not whine. "Especially in these clothes."

Esca looked up and down Marcus' body, which stiffened in the scrutiny. "I have a character that's your height and build. I need to know if a guy like you can climb a tree."

"Why couldn't you just get Geste to do this for you? He's my build."

"Does he know how to climb a tree?" he asked expectantly.

"I have no idea." How was Marcus supposed to know?

"Do you know how to climb a tree?"

"No!"

"Well, that's the point." Esca looked away, satisfied to have apparently made a very good argument.

Which was bullshit. "What?"

"Fine! You want your motivation?" Esca moved to Marcus' back to try to push him towards the tree. Unlike the shove over the couch, Marcus was ready for it this time and didn't let himself be budged. Esca slammed his shoulder against Marcus like he was trying to get through a locked door. "You are a respectable Victorian gentleman who has lived in the city your entire life. The one you love broke into a solicitor's office to get evidence." Esca grunted as he leaned against Marcus, panting from his lack of endurance. "You see the solicitors suspicious" - pant - "secretary come into the building. You" - pant - "need to warn her before she gets shot."

Marcus' eyes followed up the trunk of the tree, along branches until he finally looked to the window of Esca's office. He had to admit he could picture it all, and could feel anxiety from the imaginary situation settle in his stomach.

"Can't you just assume he can make it?"

Esca shifted against Marcus' back, confidence returning in knowing that he'd won. "This is the closest I've ever been to a tree. I've never seen a squirrel climb a tree, let alone a man."

Marcus sighed and approached the trunk.

  


"Well, it wasn't exactly what I had been hoping," Esca remarked later, clearly more put out that his original idea hadn't worked than that Marcus had fallen to the ground just as he was reaching for the sill of the second story window. The only thing that saved him from a broken back was all the branches he hit on the way down. He landed on the ground intact with only scrapes and bruises. His nice clothing wasn't so lucky.

Marcus winced at the sting of the alcohol being dabbed on a long cut on his cheek. Esca's hands were surprisingly gentle as he disinfected Marcus' scratches. At first, Marcus thought Esca just wanted to inflict more pain on him. 

But here Marcus sat on a dining room chair with Esca standing between his knees, holding his head up with a hand on his jaw. Marcus' eyes darted around, determined to look anywhere but Esca's face. 

"Sorry," Marcus said, unfortunately sounding more apologetic and less sarcastic that he wanted, but what could he do with Esca so close and acting so unusually caring? Marcus wasn't about to break this weird spell Esca had slipped into with a challenging remark. Esca would only get angry, and his fingers were in a good position to scratch Marcus' eyes out. 

Esca sighed. "I guess his plummet to earth is loud enough to gain both her and the secretary’s attention and will give her a chance to escape."

Esca tilted Marcus' head up higher so he could look at a deep cut under Marcus' chin. He put down the cotton ball and picked up the damp wash cloth. "This might need stitches."

Marcus remembered his chin slamming onto a hard branch. He was just glad he hadn't bitten his tongue clean off. "I'm not letting you anywhere near me with a needle and thread," Marcus said. It was more of a mumble since he couldn't move his jaw with Esca holding it. 

Esca gave an amused smile. "Probably for the better. I'd end up sewing your mouth shut instead."

Marcus felt a tension in his body begin to loosen at the playful banter. He had no idea what had gotten into Esca but he didn't want to stop it.

Unfortunately, someone else decided to with the bang of the front door.

"Esca!" Geste shouted into the house before freezing mid-step, finally noticing Esca and Marcus. 

Esca didn't step away from being so close to Marcus. 

Geste and Esca seemed to exchange some angry eye conversation. Marcus had no idea what was going on, other than that Geste was pissed at Esca and that was nothing new, although it normally didn't seem to ever happen so quickly. 

"I'd better go to the doctor," Marcus said, breaking the silence. Geste glared at Marcus. He stood, mindful of the ache in his back and his thigh, accidentally bumping his body against Esca's. "I'll give you a call tomorrow, then." He limped towards the door, Geste stepping back and circling towards Esca like he was ready for a fight.

"Send me the bill," Esca said in a weird sing-song voice.

Marcus looked back. "For the medical services or for the clothing?"

"Both," Esca said dismissively, grabbing the first aid kit and heading for the kitchen. 

Marcus left before Geste decided to go after him. He had enough bruises as it was.

  


_Esca could barely keep his hands from shaking as he gently wiped at the dried blood on his Master’s face. He couldn’t blame it on being cold since the bath water Marcus sat in as Esca knelt next to him was warm and steaming. He brought the reddened cloth down to the water to rinse it before bringing it back up._

_Esca does not know what happened, as it was not his place to know. He only knew that his Master came home bruised and cut with a large gash in his thigh. Esca had been terrified to see his Master so hurt, and when he was instructed to hold him down so that his cut could be searched, Esca kept himself sobbing, knowing he needed to be strong for his master._

_“You look so sad,” Marcus murmured. “Like I am already dead.”_

_“No, Master!” he said, more denying that Marcus was dead than that he was upset._

_His Master smiled and ruffled Esca’s damp hair affectionately. Esca couldn’t help but lean into the touch. “It will take more than that to kill me.”_

_More than what? Esca wanted to know, but it was clear Marcus was dismissing the subject with his vagueness. Marcus hummed as Esca carefully tilted his Master’s head back so that he could clean under his chin, rubbing the blood away from the scar he got in his days in the army from the helmets._

_They were both quiet for a while as Esca worked. Esca paused when Marcus put his large hands on Esca’s hips. “You are too far away.”_

_Esca gave a surprised squawk as Marcus pulled him over to straddle his injured thigh. “Master, your wounds!” A normal Master would smack Esca for a scolding tone coming from a slave, but Marcus just grinned tiredly._

_“It is fine. You weigh little.”_

_Esca still frowned, trying to slip away._

_Marcus laughed and put a large arm around Esca’s waist, holding him tightly against him. “I will feel better with my pretty little slave on my lap.”_

_Esca wasn’t convinced. He was not that little and he did not want to harm his Master._

_Marcus just smiled and took a hold of Esca’s wrist. He brought the washcloth that was clutched in Esca’s fingers to his face. The other hand that had been resting on his hip moved back and down. Esca whimpered as he felt the pad of a large finger rub against his hole. “The sooner you clean me, the sooner I can make you dirty, little one.”_

_Esca began to clean his face quickly, probably too rough for his Master’s injuries. Marcus just laughed at his eagerness._

  


“You look awful!” Cottia said as she sat down across from him. Starbuck’s tables were always so tiny that she had to sit sideways since there was no room under the table for her with his large legs in the way. “What in the world happened?”

Marcus rubbed his hand through his hair. It had been a week ago, but that just gave his bruises time to turn dark, green and sickly. “I fell from a tree.”

“What?!” she squawked, gaining many glances from the people around them. “Why in the world were you in a tree?”

Marcus tried to think up a lie, but Cottia was good at jumping to the right conclusions.

“It was Esca, wasn’t it?”

Marcus shrugged a shoulder before wincing. “Yeah.”

“Oh my god,” she said. “Why did he force you up a tree?”

“He didn’t force me up a tree,” he said, indignant of the idea of a man of Esca’s size pushing him up a tree. Actually, the image was rather amusing and he had to hold back a smile.

“Why did he get you up a tree?”

“Writing research?”

Cottia rolled her eyes dramatically and sat back with a huff. “Isn’t that what the internet is for? If he wanted to see an idiot fall out of a tree, I’m sure there are a bunch of videos on the web.” She paused and seemed to realize what she just said. “No offense,” she added.

“I wasn’t supposed to fall out of it.”

Cottia sighed. “We need a union or something to stop this kind of thing from happening. Do you think Rowling or King is that crazy? Did Rowling make kids on wires fly with brooms? Maybe King really kills people.”

“I hope not,” Marcus said, although honestly, he had never read a Stephen King novel, but he heard enough about them to know he wouldn’t want them to really happen.

“You’re not going to quit, are you?”

Marcus shook his head. He still couldn’t explain it, especially after that last story Esca posted. Marcus was so conflicted. It hadn’t been the rough sex and domination the other ones were. It had been… sweet. Had Esca been fighting back shaking when he cleaned Marcus up? Had he really been terrified when he saw Marcus fall to the ground, covering it up with apathy afterwards?

Cottia seemed to know it was better to change the subject, and she brought Marcus out of his musings when she spoke. “You’re the only guy I know who would ever think of getting a Frappuccino.”

Marcus looked over to the business man who had been in front of them and took a minute to rattle off his complicated order. “How is this worse than asking for three kinds of milk?”

Cottia smiled. “People are so judgmental about what coffee you drink,” she said dismissively, as if she hadn’t just been judging him.

“It’s already been a really hot morning. Why would I want to drink something hot?” he asked, and they thankfully did not talk again about Esca the rest of the day. 

  


It was a month after Marcus fell out of a tree. He was five miles away from Esca’s house when he was nearly sideswiped by another car going double the speed limit in the opposite direction. Marcus swerved over in surprise and slammed on his brakes, stopping just inches from a parked minivan.

He looked in the rear view mirror just in time to catch the back of a little blue sports car before it made a sharp left turn and disappeared behind the trees.

Little blue sports car. Speeding away from the direction of Esca’s house.

Geste’s car.

Marcus cringed. For a long moment he debated turning around and just going home, not wanting to deal with what he was sure to find if he continued to Esca’s. But it couldn’t be that bad, right?

  


It was so much worse. The entire house was trashed. In the dining room, half of the chairs were broken and the cabinet of china was knocked over; the whole ground was covered in broken glass. In the living room, there were rips in all the furniture, the blade that was probably used to cut it stuck in the back of a sofa (and thankfully not the back of Esca). In the kitchen, the fridge was literally lying on its side, food and silverware scattered on the ground. Even the foyer was somehow trashed with clothing tossed down from the top of the stairs. And that was only what Marcus could see from the front door. 

Fear suddenly gripped him. “Esca?” he called out. Was he okay? Was he dying? Was he lying on the floor bleeding to death? Marcus only got to the bottom of the stairs before Esca suddenly appeared at the top thankfully looking untouched. Marcus let out a sigh of relief.

“Marcus,” Esca said, his voice more annoyed than anything else. Only when he started down the stairs did Marcus notice he was carrying a laptop without a screen or half of its keys anymore. Esca held it up, and Marcus stared at it wide-eyed. “Fix it.”

“Where’s the screen?” Marcus asked weakly. Not that he could do anything even if he had the screen.

“The office,” Esca said, waving his hand vaguely behind him.

Marcus had no idea if the wrecked laptop was salvageable. “Please. Please tell me you recently backed up your new manuscript,” he all but begged. 

“It doesn’t matter. That hard drive thing was thrown into the pool,” Esca said dismissively, like it didn’t matter.

Like losing months of writing didn’t matter at all.

Marcus didn’t know where it came from; he had always been a fairly passive person. Maybe it was the babysitting of a grown man. Maybe it was the coffee bar. Maybe it was being made to get up at early hours for stupid things. Maybe it was that blog full of stories all about him taking control. Whatever the reason, Marcus snapped.

“God damn it, Esca!” Marcus shouted.

Esca recoiled back, eyes wide with shock.

Marcus snatched the laptop from Esca’s hand. He gripped it hard enough that the edges of the broken plastic were digging into his palm and fingers. He wanted to smash the thing to the ground. He had no idea how he kept from doing it. “You can’t do things like this! What if your latest manuscript is gone?”

Rather than Esca shouting and pushing back like Marcus had seen him do with all of his boyfriends, Esca was almost timid. “I could rewrite it?”

“Rewrite it? You have almost fifty thousand words written! How would you expect to rewrite all of that? It would take you twice as long! What then?”

Esca didn’t seem to have an answer to that.

“I can’t believe you let this latest asshole do this! Did you just stand and watch while he destroyed everything? You didn’t think to call the cops or run for help? What if he turned on you next?”

Esca continued to stare at him, expression still shocked but shifted somehow.

It was pure willpower that kept Marcus from reaching forward and trying to shake some sense into Esca. “I should whip you!”

Esca’s mouth hung open and suddenly Marcus realized it. That was what Esca’s expression was: lust. He was actually turned on by this, by Marcus shouting at him and threatening him with punishment.

Marcus became dominant, and Esca instantly became submissive.

Not about to miss out on this opportunity, Marcus grabbed Esca’s arm and dragged him outside and towards his car, only stopping to lock the front door, why he had no idea.

“Where are we going?” Esca asked, but didn’t show any signs of resistance as Marcus shoved him into the passenger seat of his Jeep and placed the busted computer in his lap.

“We’re going to the police so you can file a report against Geste for trashing your fucking house. Then we’re going to a computer geek place to see if they can salvage any of your hard drive.”

Esca didn’t complain that he could just stay home.

  


Esca was quiet and passive the entire trip, doing everything Marcus told him to do. It was actually refreshing, to be the one giving the commands. Esca talked to the computer experts who thankfully said the hard drive was undamaged, and he even filed charged on Geste, something he had refused to do against all of his past boyfriends who had done something wrong (and there were more who did than didn’t). Marcus thankfully didn’t need to clean up the whole house either as Esca easily agreed to a cleaning service.

The best part of all was Esca didn’t seem upset with the sudden change in power. In his mind, Marcus had always unconsciously paired submission to being solemn. On the contrary, Esca almost seemed content, even happy to take on this role. Marcus knew he shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was. He knew Esca must have liked the idea at some level or he wouldn’t have placed himself in that role in his stories, but he couldn’t believe Esca actually enjoyed it in real life. 

It felt so strange, having the power. Marcus wasn’t sure if he liked it; most of the time he felt more like a bully than a proud Roman soldier. He wondered what Esca saw.

“This office is mess,” Marcus said.

Esca lowered his head, as if he were actually ashamed of it. Marcus couldn’t tell if Esca was just acting or if he really felt that way now.

“It needs to be cleaned,” Marcus decided. “All of this stuff needs to get off the floor or one of us will end up tripping and getting hurt.”

Esca nodded and bent down to begin to pick up the large stacks of papers and started to actually use the filing cabinets he had. Marcus could only stand there for so long watching before he felt bad and started to help. 

This was the first time Marcus ever got to actually touch any of these papers, and he had been too curious over the past year to not take the opportunity to see what they were. Most were research, facts and figures about certain areas or jobs, building layouts, pictures and designs of clothing, foreign language grammar and vocabulary. Some seemed to be ideas Esca wrote down for the sake of writing down; many papers only had one line written on them. The rest, Marcus had no idea what they were; they just seemed like pages of gibberish. 

Esca, who normally wouldn’t allow him to even glance at the papers, let him help without a bat of his eyelashes. It was all a surprising insight into how Esca’s mind worked while writing a novel.

  


Marcus had known this side of Esca wouldn’t last very long, but he had hoped for more than just two weeks. He knew it was over when he found Esca in a kitchen eating cereal. He didn’t know how he knew, but there was something about the line in his back and tension around his eyes.

Marcus’ suspicions were confirmed when Esca suddenly put his hand down and knocked the half-full bowl off the island, broken glass, milk and frosted flakes going everywhere.

Marcus gawked at the mess. “Esca!” Marcus grabbed a dish cloth and squatted to start carefully gathering the glass pieces into a pile and sop up most of the milk. Marcus looked up. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Esca’s face was tightening with a mixture of emotion Marcus couldn’t decipher. Esca took the juice he also had and threw it hard on the ground, right in front of Marcus, splashing him with orange juice and glass.

Marcus yelled and jerked away, falling onto his ass before scrambling up. He felt anger build in him like he’d never felt it before. “What the fuck are you doing?! Why would you do that?!”

Esca stood and walked over to a cabinet before opening it, revealing rows of glasses. Before Marcus could tell him to stop, Esca started grabbing glasses and tossing them over his shoulders.

Marcus started shouting and dodged the glasses being thrown. “Stop it! STOP IT!” he bellowed. When Esca moved to the next cabinet over, Marcus lunged forward and grabbed Esca by his wrists. “Stop it! What the hell has gotten into you?!” 

Esca jerked and twisted until his arms were crossed and he faced Marcus with wild eyes, his irises almost completely engulfed with the black of his pupils. 

Holy hell, Esca was turned on. Marcus couldn’t help but glance down, seeing a bulge in Esca’s skinny jeans.

Esca struggled again but it was more for show than to get away. “Then maybe you should punish me,” he murmured, leaning forward into Marcus’ space.

That was Esca’s game. He wanted more than shouting. He wanted to be manhandled. He wanted— Marcus leaned forward and captured Esca’s mouth, forcing his lips open with his tongue and tasting him. Esca stopped struggling and yielded with a moan, becoming suddenly pliant under Marcus’ force. It was a hard kiss, full of teeth and biting.

God, did Marcus want to punish Esca for this. He wanted to grab Esca by the hair and push him to the ground. He wanted to shut up that mouth with his cock, and then he would pull him up and slam him against that desk of his. He would bend him over and fuck him until Esca was crying for release. He wouldn’t give it to him, though; he would grip the base of his cock to keep him from coming. He wouldn’t let him come until—

Oh God. Marcus’ eyes widened and he shot backwards until the island counter hit his back, letting go of Esca and leaving him standing there, dazed with reddened lips. Where were these thoughts coming from? When had he started thinking of sex as a punishment and a power play? When had he started wanting a slave instead of a lover? What the hell was happening to him?

Esca. Esca and his stories were poisoning him.

“I’m done,” Marcus said with a croak. His nose itched with the start of tears. “I’m fucking done. I quit.”

“What?” Esca shouted, snapping out of his trance; the seduction and lust in his face disappearing in an instant. 

Marcus turned and stumbled out of the kitchen, almost running down the hall to the front door.

“You can’t— you can’t quit!” Esca’s voice followed him. If Marcus didn’t know better, he’d say he sounded almost panicked.

Marcus stopped and turned, almost causing Esca to run right into him. “Yes, I can. I don’t want to do this. I’m tired of it. I can’t stand the manipulation anymore. I don’t want to be like that.”

Esca’s brows drew together. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Those stories.”

“What about my books? I thought you liked them.”

“No! Not your books! Your stories. _The Centurion’s Hound._ ”

If Esca looked surprised before, it was nothing compared to the look on his face now. “You…?”

“That’s what you’re trying to do, right? Turning me into your Centurion? To get you off and punish you? Fuck that. I’m not doing it.”

Marcus turned and went out the door. When Esca called to him, he didn’t reply. He just ran out and jumped into his jeep and didn’t look back.

  


Marcus was glad he forgot his cell at Esca’s. The way his home phone had been going off, he had to disconnect it. After a quick email turning in his resignation to his boss, he disconnected his computer too.

Marcus didn’t even know what to do with himself. He felt so dirty. All of the books he loved to read, the romances, sat on his shelves like scorned religious texts. Marcus felt like he betrayed some part of himself. The ideal of love that he had almost worshiped all his life, he tossed aside for some fetish porn and a crush on an immature jackass.

There were a couple times when there was a knock on the door, but after a little while, they gave up. Marcus had been close to letting Cottia in, but he really didn’t want to explain what happened, and he knew Cottia would be able to get it out of him. It wasn’t until someone started knocking and didn’t stop for almost ten whole minutes that he finally relented. Only one person could be so stubborn, and even though Esca was the last person Marcus wanted to see, the knocking was grating on his nerves. If Marcus’ hair had been long enough, he would have pulled it out.

Marcus unlocked the door and opened it only enough to poke his head through.

Esca stood there looking a strange mixture of nervous and chastised. When Marcus didn’t move, Esca’s expression turned a more familiar annoyed. “Are you going to let me in, or are we going to have this conversation in the hall?”

“Who says we’re going to have a conversation?” Marcus asked.

“You opened the door, and you’re talking to me, right?”

Marcus glanced at the door and had the urge to slam it shut. 

Esca must have had the same thought because he stiffened as if readying himself for a door to the face. “I’m going to keep coming back. You might as well get this over with.”

Marcus hung his head and took a deep breath before opening the door wide enough for Esca to come in. Esca slipped in as quick as a shot, as if he thought Marcus was going to close the door if he took too long. Hell, he probably would have.

Usually when someone entered a home they’d never been to before, they’d stand there awkwardly, as if unsure what they would be allowed to do or look at. Esca, of course, wandered around the first floor of the town house like he owned the place. His eyes darted from one thing to another, taking it all in as if he were memorizing it and setting up a scene in his head (hopefully there wouldn’t be a murder today, reenactment or not). They finally lingered on Marcus’ bookshelf. He walked over and looked at the books, obviously reading the titles by the tilt of his head.

“Did you want to say something, or do you want to wander around some more?” Marcus asked, losing patience.

Esca looked over and his mouth quirked into a grin. When Marcus didn’t grin back, his face grew more serious again. “How long have you known about those stories?”

“A while,” Marcus said. “You saved one on the USB with your manuscript of _The Purloined Susan._ ” Now that Marcus thought about it, that had been over six months ago. Had it really been that long?

Esca seemed confused for a long moment before realization seemed to dawn on him. “The face-fuck one I lost, right?”

Marcus cringed at the name, but nodded. “Yeah. I found the other ones on your blog later.”

Esca grinned slyly. “They turned you on, didn’t they?”

“Why would you write those?” Marcus had to know. The question had been gnawing in the back of his mind for months.

Esca shrugged, as if Marcus had asked him why he preferred macaroni instead of penne. “Why else? They were arousing, and I couldn’t exactly put any of those scenes into one of my published books. Too hardcore for most readers.”

“Why me?”

Esca looked him up and down. “You’re hot. I have a thing for big guys and you’re one of the most attractive I’ve met. So I used your body to put my _‘Master’_ into.”

Something in Marcus sank. Was that it? He only liked how Marcus looked? It was nothing more?

Esca’s expression became serious. “Come back.”

“No.” He didn’t even need time to think about it.

“Why not?”

“You’re an asshole. I’m tired of being your nanny. I’m a literary agent, not a housekeeper. And I’m tired of all the manipulation.”

“You said that before. What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to be turned into your Master, and I don’t want a slave. I want a normal relationship between two people who care about each other.”

Esca snorted. “You do know how naïve that sounds, right?”

“I don’t care! I like romance novels, and I want a relationship like that. Is it that strange for you to understand?” Marcus was almost pleading for an answer. “You must have some idea; those romances in your books are the most real love I’ve ever read.”

Esca rolled his eyes but didn’t look as sure of himself as he had been before. “My characters are anything but normal. They’re flawed and needy.”

“True,” Marcus conceded. “But that’s what makes them real.”

“There are a lot of terrible things that are real.”

Marcus clenched his hands into fists and herded Esca to the door with his larger body. “You’re right. There are. Like how you treat me. And how you look down on me for wanting an equal I can love instead of some fuck toy.”

Esca scowled. “That isn’t what I meant—“

Marcus slammed the door in his face, and he wished it made him feel more satisfied than it did. When he went back to his living room he saw his cell phone on the table next to the sofa.

  


Esca seemed to back off for a while, and Marcus decided not to hole himself in his home anymore. He wasn’t going to become a hermit because of some patronizing asshole. Marcus thought he had seen a more personal side to Esca, but he was beginning to think they were just freak anomalies. He had thought –hoped– there had been more to it, but maybe it was just him fooling himself. If Esca just wanted him for some bedroom games, he wasn’t going to get him.

The publisher wouldn’t leave him alone since Marcus had been the longest to last and Esca apparently had become even worse than before it that was possible. They constantly offered him more and more money to sign his soul away to the devil.

Damn he became dramatic when he was depressed.

Marcus ended up figuratively shoving Cottia away when she kept hounding him for answers, wanting to know what Esca had done. He’d shouted at her and refused to answer her calls anymore, though he did accept her apology through text. He had to promise that he would tell her when he could if she stopped pushing it. It wasn’t exactly a lie since he knew he’d want to talk about it eventually.

After quick trip to the store, Marcus didn’t know why he was surprised when he found Esca sitting on his front steps. He was even more surprised when Esca helped him carry his bags in. He let him in, too tired to build his aggression back up to keep him out.

Neither of them spoke for almost fifteen minutes as Marcus put away his groceries and went to the living room. They stood there awkwardly. Marcus wanted to kick Esca out again, but he couldn’t. He had a shifting expression on his face Marcus wasn’t sure he’d seen before: conflict, hesitation and frustration.

“In the beginning, it was just because you were hot,” Esca suddenly said, not looking him in the eye. “You’re my type, and the first time I saw you, I thought you would be this dominating, forceful personality that would put me in line.”

Marcus swallowed. He was used to that. “And afterwards?”

Esca frowned, stopping to think. “After I found out you were as passive as a mouse, I was disgruntled. I thought you were just another one of those brown-nosing agents who wanted the large pay cut my books would make.”

Marcus couldn’t help but continue to hear a ‘but’. “And then?”

Esca made a frustrated noise, as if he was hoping Marcus wouldn’t keep asking for more. He got up and went back to Marcus’ shelf of romances. Marcus was sure he was imagining it when Esca’s shoulders seemed to relax when he saw his own books still there. “And then when you started to back off because of your other authors contracts, I thought it was just because you just wanted more money until I found out they were some nobodies that only pulled in change.”

Marcus felt indignant on their behalf. All of those authors were very good. When Esca didn’t continue, Marcus knew what it felt like to be pulling teeth. “And?”

“And I realized you were just compassionate,” Esca said as if shoving the words out as quickly as possible. “You wanted to give the same service to them as you did to me, and I… I was jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“I wanted you for myself. I wanted to be your only concern.”

Marcus groaned. “That’s why you were such a…. so insistent about that coffee bar?”

Esca seemed amused at Marcus’ self-censorship. “Yes.”

“You really didn’t give a damn about that thing, did you?”

“No, I did. Most of the changes though? No, not really.” Esca suddenly reached up and took one of the books from the shelf, a small paperback that was written as a remix to the classic Cinderella story. “I couldn’t believe you really cared that much about everyone. I wanted that from you, but then… I was envious of your ability to be able to do that.”

“It’s not that hard to care about people.”

“I think it is. So after that first story I wrote, I wanted to try and find some dominant personality that could make me passive, make me care about what they wanted and what they thought.”

Marcus’ heart leapt into his throat. “Is that why you were dating all of those guys? You wanted one of them to… make you care?”

“Yes,” Esca said. “But none of them could do it. They were all just assholes that pissed me off.”

“It’s not fear that creates compassion; it’s respect!”

Esca looked at him confused. 

Marcus shook his head. “For a man who can write such emotional stories, you don’t understand them at all.”

Esca was suddenly very close, and Marcus stepped back until he stood between the wall and Esca’s gaze. “You’re right. I don’t.”

Marcus felt very tense. “What do you want from me, Esca? I can’t be your master.”

Esca searched his face for a long moment, as if deciding whether that was true. “No,” he finally said. “I don’t think you can.” Esca still hadn’t moved away. Marcus could swear he was moving closer…

Lips brushed against his own, and Marcus couldn’t help but gasp quietly. It was nothing like the devouring kiss before. It was soft and easy and _chaste_. It was over far too soon and Marcus made a noise to express that opinion.

Esca pulled back and his eyes began searching Marcus’ face again, as if still trying to solve a complex puzzle. 

“What?” Marcus asked breathless. 

“Come back,” Esca said quietly. “I… we’ll work it out.”

“Work what out?”

This kiss was even shorter than the last. “This thing between us. I’m too stubborn not to pursue it.”

Marcus frowned. “Am I just a curiosity or…” 

This kiss was thankfully longer.

“No, you’re not,” Esca promised.

“I don’t…”

“I really do want to understand, Marcus. The people in my stories are imperfect and weak, but they’re happy.”

“No one is perfect.”

Esca gave a wry smile. “No, they aren’t.”

Marcus studied Esca a long moment. For the first time in a while he thought back to the days when Esca finished a book and was happy, how Marcus even managed somehow to coax some of it out of him, even though it took him falling out of a tree to do it. Those things had kept him going, but would Esca be able to let himself relax enough for it to happen all the time?

Marcus looked away. “I don’t want to give you my time and attention because you demand it of me anymore.”

“Then I’ll just have to earn it,” Esca replied, bending to try and catch Marcus’ eyes.

Marcus met them, and they were filled with tentative hope. “I can’t be your literary agent anymore.”

Esca’s face fell instantly.

“We can… We can try to start over, but just as equals. Not agent and writer. Or master or slave.”

Esca looked confused, as if the thought of Marcus being willing to just spend time with him without extra obligations was foreign to him. Marcus suddenly really wanted to give all of his love and attention to Esca, because no one should think love is conditional.

“Yeah,” Esca finally said, his voice determined, though a little dubious as well. “Alright.”

Marcus let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“So, what do we do now?” Esca asked.

“What would we do if we were main characters in one of your books?” Marcus asked, curious to know.

“I’d like to say they’d run off to have lots of sex.” Esca grinned. “But more likely I’d probably say something insulting and you’d slap me.”

Laughter bubbled out of Marcus, and Esca seemed to look thrilled to cause such a reaction. “Maybe we can skip that part.

  


Esca and Cottia were glaring at each other over the table. Their food sat before them, untouched. Marcus felt a little helpless. He wasn’t sure what to do. He tried to coax them both into talking, but neither seemed to grab the bait. There was only so long that Marcus could essentially talk to himself and he eventually gave up.

Both were too busy sizing each other up.

Marcus knew Cottia was still angry at Esca over Marcus’ ‘ _breakdown_ ’, as he decided to call it because there was no way he was going to tell people he let slave porn get into his head and it freaked him out. Marcus had managed to hold back the parts about the stories from Cottia, although barely. Cottia still believed that Esca was using and manipulating Marcus and his too-big heart. Marcus didn’t let on, but in the beginning, he was a little worried too.

Esca didn’t know too much about Cottia. They only really started to get to know each other. It was unusual, the friendship coming after the relationship, but when had anything with Esca been normal? All Esca knew was that Cottia was a close friend, and in his eyes, that meant she was a competitor for Marcus’ attentions.

Marcus decided the both of them should meet (granted, this was done under a lot of prodding by Cottia). He set up a lunch date, and so the glaring match started.

Marcus poked at his own food, unsure if he should just eat. He felt weird eating alone, so he mostly just took a bite when the smell was getting too irresistible. One or both of them would break at some point. Marcus just hoped all of the glassware stayed intact.

“So,” Cottia said suddenly, stopping the silence. “From what Marcus tells me, you’re a vindictive jerk.”

Marcus put his hand to his face. This might be ending worse than he expected.

Esca seemed completely unfazed. “Marcus hasn’t told me much about you; so you must not be very important.”

So much worse.

Cottia gave a high-pitched huff. “ _The Purloined Susan_ was such a great book. Who wrote it?”

“And who was it you represented again? That man who writes dog porn?”

“Do you get blown over when Marcus sneezes?”

“How many rats have gotten caught and died in your hair?”

They stopped and glared at each other some more.

Marcus raised his hand as their waiter passed them. “Check please. And some to-go boxes?”

  


_“Esca.”_

_Esca shifted. The furs under him were soft on his skin. The hand that smoothed down his back was warm and pleasant but uncovered his back, exposing it to the cool room air. He made a displeased noise._

_“If you sleep in too late, we won’t be able to find anything to hunt.”_

_Esca blinked his eyes open, the room was a murky blue, meaning the sun had yet to risen, but would do so soon. He rolled over and found Marcus standing over him. His simple tunic was layered over an undershirt, and he wore his thicker braccae._

_“Being a freedman does not mean you can be so lazy,” Marcus said._

_Esca grinned. “What is the point of being free if I am not free to sleep in?”_

_“Being free means getting your own food, and unless you want bland oats again for dinner, I suggest we start looking for meat now.”_

_Esca stretched and rolled from the bed, and out of the warm covers. He quickly dressed to stop the chill from biting into his skin. He grabbed his bow, a simple thing, but strong and accurate._

_The land and the hills surrounding their small farm were darkening as summer was drawing to a close.  
The air outside was cool crisp. If it was any colder, there would be snow, but it would not come so early in the fall. _

_Esca hoped Marcus did not want to go back to Rome, where it was crowded and smelled of dung and animals and people who stayed dirty no matter how often they took baths. Out here there was so much space. Esca could run for an hour and never find a single soul. He might be able to run for days._

_By the time he found Marcus in the barn saddling their horses, the sun was peeking out from the horizon. Esca pressed against him. The warmth from Marcus, the horse and the sun at his back took away the morning chill that had settled in his bones._

_Marcus looked down at him and grinned. “Come, Esca, while the hunting is good.”_

_Esca returned his grin. “Yes, Marcus.”_

  



End file.
